Re #2
“I’m not exactly here by choice, Samira,” I scoff, though it’s just like my father to keep his demands a secret from the rest of my family. “As part of the terms of the Shykhdar hosting these talks, Father demanded my presence.”
Samira’s busy hands worry the embroidered hem of her gown as she mutters, “Of course he did.” At my questioning look, she gives me a wry grin. “I aim to steal your birthright, Olbric.”
Hope blooms in my chest even as a thousand questions quickly follow.
The expectation that I would take my father’s seat in the Shykhdar is the entire reason he’s tried to get me to return home.
It’s the last thing I’ve ever wanted, but as my father’s only son, the position has always felt like a prison to escape.
But if there’s a woman cunning enough and bold enough to take that unwanted responsibility away, it’s Samira.
“But you being here is a knife in my plans,” she says, and my hope falters. “One that could kill it entirely.”
“What plan?” I ask. “How can I help? What can I do? Because I didn’t spend the last six years starting a new life just to be dragged back into the Shykhdar’s bullshit.”
She smiles at that, keen hazel eyes taking me in. “I’ve already gotten a public endorsement from Tereman, Kenan, and Ramzi. So long as your presence doesn’t cause them to publicly renege on those endorsements, they’re the three I’m least worried about.”
I nod, recognizing the names of the Shykhs of the central, southwestern, and southeastern territories.
Kenan has always been the most liberal-thinking of them, but his more progressive proposals were usually overruled by the others.
Ramzi knows what it is to be a controversial candidate for the Shykhdar, so the fact that he’s chosen to endorse my sister means he’s likely a better man than I’ve given him credit for.
Tereman, the lecherous old fuck, might just be endorsing her as some ploy to try and marry her later, but I would be foolish to think Samira doesn’t know what she’s doing on that front.
“So, Father and Demir are the holdouts?” I ask.
Samira shakes her head. “Demir finally, finally died a couple of years ago. His son Farras took that seat.”
My pulse races at the name. “Farras? Seriously?”
“Yes... why?”
I can’t stop the smile that threatens to split my face in half. Farras is Feisal’s father. Too many ideas form, and none of them Arlon would approve of. But fortunately, he doesn’t need to be involved. This is a personal matter.
“I think I can come up with a plan to sway Farras.” Samira gives me a curious look, but I hold up a hand. “I’ll say more when I have a better idea. But let’s just say Farras’ eldest owes me a debt.”
Samira leans back on her hands, a smirk playing across her lips. “Feisal? Now that sounds like a tale.”
I snort. “And a long one, too. One that will require at least a bottle of wine and a couple of hours.”
“I think I can arrange that,” Samira says, amused, but her smile fades. “And what about Ada? I need his endorsement, too.”
“And let me guess,” I mutter. “He’s been uncooperative?”
“He won’t even hear me,” Samira scoffs. “Every time I so much as mention it, he says it’s not my place. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been acting behind closed doors to try and get my endorsers to change their minds. Now that you’re back, I’m sure that convincing them will be much easier.”
I scowl at that as I look at her. Really look at her. She’s aged, just as I have, but there’s a sharpness in her that I don’t remember. As if being here has worn her down, changed her to fit their shape.
“When I was planning on leaving, do you remember what I told you? The reason for it?” I ask.
She’d been the only person I’d told in advance. The only one I’d trusted to keep it a secret from our father.
“You said this place would destroy you,” she says quietly.
“And I’m afraid it will do the same to you,” I say. “Do you really want this?”
She gives me a wary look, that sharpness dissecting me as if trying to find an ulterior motive for asking the question. Finally, she sighs, her shoulders relaxing. And in that moment, I see the same sister I left behind.
“More than anything.” She gives me a small smile that’s so familiar it makes me ache.
It brings up so many memories of no being shot at her.
So many things I was allowed to do that she wasn’t just because of her sex.
“I’m tired, Olbric. Tired of being silenced.
Cashira are so often used as an excuse, and I am tired of their lives being dictated without their voices being heard.
I don’t know if I can do this, if I can even get the endorsements.
But I know one thing for certain. If there’s one way I can make us heard, it will be from a Shykh’s seat. ”
I let out a long breath, my chest filling with pride.
If she hadn’t been behind every step of me leaving, I’m not sure I could have done it.
I see that same conviction in her now. That same dogged determination and confidence brought such change to my life, and I can only imagine what it could do in a Shykh’s seat.
“I will do everything in my power to get you in it.” I reach across the space between us to grab her hands. “You will do great things, Samira.”
She gives a small laugh, her eyes suddenly glossy. Without warning, her arms circle me. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I let out a shuddering breath as I return the embrace. “I’ve missed you, too.”
When she finally releases me, she takes a seat on the bed beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine. “Speaking of great things,” she says, giving me a sidelong grin. “O mighty wizard, have you accomplished what you set out to do?”
I laugh, my hand automatically rubbing my chest in search of my confiscated spells. “Travel the world? Learn magic? Become a powerful wizard? I’m happy to say that I have.”
“I’m glad.” She considers me for a moment before she asks, “Have you ever wanted to come home before now? Because I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped for it.”
I swallow the lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat.
“More times than you can imagine,” I say.
“Straetham is so... cold and dreary. Coming from here, it was like moving to a world without color. I was glad to leave the Eastern Tower, which is all of that on top of being in the middle of fucking nowhere, but the Crux... the Crux is a bright spot.”
Samira hums thoughtfully. “You must really love it there.”
I chuckle and say, “Don’t get me wrong, the Crux itself is... incredible, but it has nothing on the people in it.”
“Oh, really?” Samira asks, mischief coloring her tone. “Let me guess, you’re carrying a torch for someone there, aren’t you?”
I laugh, heat rushing to my face. “Bold of you to assume that it’s just one person.”
Samira’s smile grows. “Oh! How scandalous.”
“Not at the Crux, it isn’t,” I chuckle. Samira looks at me expectantly, and after so many years of wishing I could, it’s a joy to finally be able to tell her about it.
“Love comes in so many shades at the Crux. There’s camaraderie, there’s casting, there’s friendship, there’s romance...
” I think of the sending spell in my pocket, just waiting for me to talk to Dom again. “Sometimes all of that at once.”
Samira lets out a wistful sigh. “That sounds wonderful.”
“It really is,” I say, homesick already. I look down at where Samira’s head is resting against my shoulder. “Do you ever wish you had inherited Ama’s magic?”
I’d found out after a desperate tryst with a man in one of the illicit pleasure dens in town. I’ll never forget the first time I felt that thrum of magic, but when Samira visited that same man at her insistence a week later, she hadn’t felt the telltale resonance.
“I used to,” she admits. “When you first left, I wanted to follow so badly, but... I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I stayed. There’s an opportunity for me here that no magic could recreate.”
She’s right. Here, she has the potential to spearhead change for an entire country. A chance to make a better future for everyone who comes after.
“You’ll be more powerful than any wizard.” I grab her hand and squeeze. “You’ll be a Shykh.”
I STAY OFF THE MAIN roads, stick to the woods and deer trails that run along the river. I’m not looking to come up with a lame horse, so I alternate between hand-walking Mo and Valar, and I switch who rides and who packs daily. Three days out of Crofton, I finally dare to breathe a little.
There’s been no sign of pursuit, no sign of Nik since the inn.
Next town up is Barrowin, and by then I should be able to consolidate supplies.
With luck, I’ll even be able to find a runner or merchant willing to return Valar to the Crux for me.
Hell, maybe if I’m really lucky, I can reunite with Vanya and Jessic, though that seems like a vain hope.
With Nik tailing me, I can’t risk lingering in town long.
My mad dash from the inn cut my supplies in half, but keeping that much on me was foolish anyway.
I think part of me was holding onto the idea that Olbric would pull some sort of grand escape and meet up with me.
Now that I’ve accidentally left all his gear behind, I guess that hope’s finally died.
But at least it’s less for the horses to carry, and with grain running low, it’ll be best if I can send Valar back home.
Keeping one horse on a trip like this is challenge enough.
A chill has descended over the mountains tonight, and the air around me is thick and heavy, threatening sleet or snow.
It’ll be a cold, miserable night if I can’t find a good shelter.
I’ve been through these woods, but I’m more familiar with the terrain between Airedale and Frostcliff, and at my current pace, we’re still a ways out.